I am Karma’s bitch.

I am not sure what I did, to whom, on what day, but Karma has bitch slapped me like I took Karma home for a one night stand and never called.

In a cosmic sense, I just got put in a jail cell with Karma and he just told me I have a pretty mouth.

Here is some insight:

I have a motor scooter that I have come to really enjoy.

Its name is Barney. This is because it is stark black and white and looks like a scooter version of a cop car. Hence the name Barney. Barney Fife, from Mayberry. (Even Googling it will not help, you either get it or you don’t)

Its a little 50cc, vespa-looking thing that gets about 120mpg and does not require a motorcycle license.

I rode it across town and parked it in a legal spot, then went to visit a friend.

I came out to find an older couple just standing it up and writing a note to leave on it.

They had backed their raised SUV out of their driveway, didn’t look first and drove over my scooter.

It was a shitty thing to happen, but the guy was honestly sorry and offered to pay or give it to his insurance to fix it.

One bad strike on the morning, time to shake it off.

So I went back to Casablanca.

That is one of my favorite films. I bought it and downloaded it to my tablet.

When I was growing up, the family business was a hamburger place.

Consequently, my comfort food is a sloppy burger and fries.

I took my scooter home, and grabbed my car, heading out to a favored burger dive.

I was most of the way thru the burger, halfway thru the fries, and Senior Ugarte was begging Rick to help him. (Peter Lorrie was the shit as far as little weasels go.) when the waitress asked me if I owned the gold Ford.

Someone had hit my parked car.

Are you shitting me? When it rains, it pours.

A monster truck in the parking lot, driven by a student, had tried to drive over my front end.

My car is a smaller mid-size sedan, and its a hell of a lot easier to see than the damned scooter.

Luckily, it looks like a pushed in fender and a solid buffing to take out the transferred rubber on the paint.

He was a good kid, a student, trying to become a firefighter while going to school and working at costco.

Him I may cut a break to and not go horseshit.

The car is just not that pretty.

The guy that hit my scooter? Time to pay the fiddler, asshole!

Actually, with a few parts the guy has offered to pay for, the scooter will be fine.

It has been a pretty crappy day, but, aside from the inconvenience, I am fine.

I did get sunburned though.

And that hurts like a bitch.

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